Hate is a very strong word – especially since it’s only one half of my bipolar feelings for Halloween. So to pre-empt any self righteous indignation on behalf of this annual dress up party, I’ll first state some of the things that I LOVE about Halloween.
I love candy. I love little boys and girls in pirate costumes. I love little boys and girls in princess costumes. [Okay – so the little boys dressed as princesses are just hypothetical since their fathers won’t allow it. But those that settle for being princesses in their hearts will eventually have their day in Key West.] I love chilly nights with glowing, grinning pumpkins. I love the sound of a neighborhood party and the sight of men unafraid to wear tights in public (even some of the aforementioned censorious fathers). I love the idea that for one night you can put on a costume and pretend to be someone else. Because don’t we all entertain the idea of being someone else every once in a while? Even just for a minute?
So with that out of the way… I must confess that I also hate Halloween (at least 50% of the time). Why? Um – because it’s scary.
I have mentioned previously that I do not enjoy horror movies. The Ring did not give me thrills and goosebumps. It made me want to throw my TV out the window screaming, “never, never, NEVER do that do me again! How am I supposed to sleep at night now that I’ve seen that?!” I’ll stick with Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin thank you very much.
But how can you avoid the truly scary stuff in these October weeks? I live in fear of channel surfing in the evening. You may be clicking through, looking for something entertaining – perhaps a Will & Grace rerun, or maybe one of those Danielle Steele movies on Lifetime – and out of nowhere you are confronted with Linda Blair screaming obscenities and spewing green slime. That is just not something I’d like to see. Especially as a surprise. I don’t particularly like nice surprises, let alone those of the demonic variety.
Another thing I don’t like about Halloween: the undead. The whole premise of this day is that the dead come back to visit, and my very least favorite droppers by are the ones that don’t know how to stay dead. At its very core, the idea of the dead coming back to life is decidedly NOT fun. Yet every year, people strap on their fake gore and find each others’ missing heads and terminal wounds delightfully amusing. Exactly when and how did the undead become festive?
But then there is this whole other world of candy corn and superhero costumes. It makes me feel so conflicted… Especially when I find myself talking to people who are entirely against Halloween. One coworker told me that her kids passed out candy, but did not dress up like their friends. The reason being that their grandmother felt very strongly about Halloween and called it the “devil’s day.” My response was that “it’s not if you go as a fairy princess.” But given my own aversions to Satan and the undead, I can see her point.
In the end – I do not ban Halloween, and OF COURSE I encourage my children to dress up and have fun. But there will always be that part of me that says, “wait – why are we doing this again?”
No need to give me a history lesson – I know the background. But I kind of think that the Hallmark corporations of the world have made us forget about those very serious superstitions and instead, turned the day into a Disney themed party where both lovely and horrifying creatures coexist with only theoretical bloodshed.
My own unreasonable fears and phobias will never allow me to fully buy in though; and I’ll be more likely to avoid the dark basement at night than to gleefully festoon my front lawn with fake corpses. I think I’ll just stay home and pass out candy to three year old ladybugs. And I’ll stick to Netflix movies until November first.
*Sorry for the repost – but it’s a busy week – and this is so old you’re probably reading it for the first time anyway. Happy Halloween week!
